Rilla's Dream Realized
by Equus-Forever
Summary: It's time for a wedding between Rilla Blythe and a certain young officer of the Canadian army! Set RIGHT after the end of 'Rilla of Ingleside'. Two part story.
1. Purple Magic

Purple light was seeping into the air of Ingleside, and Rilla felt her heart fluttering as the magic of the evening set in. Why wouldn't her heart keep steady? And there—she had lisped _again_. Would she never grow out of the habit? She flushed miserably, suddenly feeling awkward before handsome, stately, heroic Kenneth.

"Rilla," he laughed, "you look just as flustered as Mrs. Elliot said you were after Mary chased you with the salted cod."

A relieved laugh escaped from Rilla's throat, and she stepped further onto the porch. "Don't remind me of that—or of that horrible conversation that Susan started that night, if it could be called a conversation! I was so embarrassed—she was talking of spanking you—_you, _a brave warrior! Even though it was about you as a child, why dig up those stories?"

"I'm no braver than many," Kenneth stated, shaking his head. Rilla looked at him with a sudden realization. The boyishness was gone from his face, and there was a depth to his expression and voice that hadn't been there before. The attractive officer had seen bravery and sacrifice, hatred and courage, unspeakable crimes and amazing acts of valor. He had learned many subtle things about human nature and a surprising amount of deep, revealing things, and it had changed him for the better. Yet overall, he _was_ still Ken Ford—wonderful, dear Kenneth!

"I'd like you to come down to Rainbow Valley, Bertha Marilla," Ken smiled. There was something in his voice that made Rilla tremble with hope. Could it be? She gazed out to the Four Winds lighthouse, its revolving light flashing across the sea, and smiled. "Let me just leave a note for Mother and Father."

**xXx**

Ken sat down beneath the glowing White Lady, Rilla beside him. He looked again at the pretty, sculpted face with its womanly hazel eyes and bronzed red hair. How brave this young maiden must have been through the days of the war! Even now, he noticed that her eyes were gazing at the pale tree, beloved by Walter, with a knowing and bittersweet expression. He turned towards her, unable to wait any longer.

"Bertha Marilla Blythe, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

It wasn't really a question, but Rilla answered at once, her beautiful face wreathed with radiant joy. At last, after four years of sweetness and bitterness, darkness and light, waiting and discovering, her womanhood had reached its first great epoch.

"So do I, Kenneth," she whispered, leaning forward and clasping his hands. "Forever and_ alwayth_."

**XxX**

Anne and Gilbert were waiting in the sitting room when Rilla came back, exchanging a little banter. Anne was sewing and Gilbert was reading the newspaper, but when a strangely glowing daughter swept into the room, they looked up questioningly.

"We got your note," Rilla's mother said, rising to meet her daughter. Her grey eyes still glowed with the charm of the old Anne Shirley. She used a 'new-fangled' expression. "What's up?"

"I'm going to be married, Mother!" Rilla burst out as Gilbert leapt up from his seat. She was soon enveloped in a small group hug.

"I can't say we're surprised, dearest!" Anne exclaimed. " But that's wonderful, Rilla, so wonderful!"

"I'm so proud of you," Gilbert intoned, feeling a surge of fatherly pride. "Kenneth is a wonderful young man."

Rilla blushed. "He certainly is."

**xXx**

The starry-eyed betrothed one wrote in her diary that night. _I am ENGAGED to Kenneth Ford. KENNETH Ford! I fear there will be a terrible lot of italics from now on! He met me in misty, purple Rainbow Valley, underneath Walter's White Lady, and he asked the question…WITHOUT a question mark! I gave him my answer. I am SO HAPPY right now!_


	2. To Have and to Hold

The simple interior of the windblown Glen St. Mary church was bedecked with sweet and serene decorations. The walls were hung with loops of delicate white flowers and pale pink taffeta bunting, each pew that would be occupied bore a large blue bow on either end. The crowning piece was before the alter—a bright hung with delicate Spanish moss and tiny jingling bells.

As the steeped, early afternoon sunshine stole through the church, the guests began to assemble: Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Blythe, shining with the expectancy of the first Ingleside wedding; Susan Baker, filled with almost motherly pride; Gertrude Oliver, still thrilled from her own wedding and eagerly awaiting Rilla's, and quite a few more besides these.

After much murmuring and shifting around, all the guests were together. The rest of the Ingleside children—Nan, Di, Jem, and Shirley—were there, as well as one certain lad who was there in spirit.

The doors in the front of the church suddenly opened, and Kenneth, dressed in his freshly cleaned and pressed khaki, slipped up to the altar, though not before pausing to read an inscription on the Blythe pew. _Sacred to the memory of Walter Blythe,_ it read, and his eyes misted over. He hoped that Walter would have approved of the match between him and wonderful Bertha Marilla.

So Kenneth Ford stood on the velvet-carpeted step of the sea-scented old church, while his proud parents looked on. Leslie's eyes were especially bright, for she deeply knew the value and necessity of a happy marriage with _the _person…not anyone else, as she had realized almost too late.

The Blythe childrens' "Aunt" Diana, who had become a great organist and was now at the little church organ, suddenly struck up a chord. A beautiful, red-haired young woman had slipped into the church, heralded by a shaft of golden-white light, her mother's filmy veil floating over her peaked, freckled face.

There was a murmur of appreciation from the assembly as Gilbert went to bring his daughter to her soon-to-be husband. He strode up to her and looped his arm in hers, gave a tender, gave a tender, fatherly smile, and wondered how Rilla could have grown up so fast. Only yesterday, it seemed, had she been a toddling little girl with flaming pigtails and a prim, silly manner of moving through life.

Father and daughter moved down the aisle, Rilla resplendent in her very pale blue dress. Dust motes whirled in the shafts of sunlight that highlighted the wise man and the blooming young woman. At last they were at the altar…

How like a rose Rilla looked! Ken caught his breath. None of the young beauties in France could hold a candle to his beautiful girl's elegant yet welcoming good looks. It was not only her external beauty, but the steadfast purity of her soul, the strength of her enduring loyalty. Their courtship had barely been—they had courted in spirit, communing in a land of dreams beyond the shell-shattered fields of England or the grief-stricken Glen St. Mary. And now, they were finally together.

"Do you, Kenneth George Ford, take Bertha Marilla Blythe…"

By the time the vows had been spoken and the young couple united, the church was filled with rosy light. Rilla looked around at the congregation of invited guests; Nan and Di wore looks of sisterly pride, Jem's eyes shone with deep affection for his little 'Spider', and Shirley gave her a quirky, beaming grin. And Walter—Walter was not to be seen, but Rilla felt his prescnese. She could almost see his deep, knowing smile and the laughter in his dark eyes. How proud he would be—was!—today!

Mother was weeping with joy, so proud of her brave little daughter that she could have burst with it. She could not have imagined a more perfect wedding, nor did she want to. She turned to 'beloved Gilbert', who looked like her was going to start cheering.

Kenneth looked for his own beloved family; laughing, golden Persis was nearly clapping, and Mother and Father sat with radiant expressions, thrilled that their son had made such a wonderful match, proud that he had grown so over the years.

"Well, let's go to the reception," Kenneth murmured, and he and Rilla left the church hand-in-hand.

**xXx**

Later that night, Bertha Marilla Ford and Kenneth went to their First House, a faded but snug little house quite near the Four Winds Light. Rilla felt a little lonely and sad leaving her beloved Ingleside house, but she was with Ken, and her loneliness soon turned to an eager joy as she and the tall, dark soldier crossed the threshold into the house. The sweet entrance hallway was carpeted with pale pink and off to the left, the front sitting room looked out on the harbor, the window hung with freshly pressed, beautifully woven lace curtains. One of Marilla's ancient but serviceable rag rugs, faded to a pastel vintage look, was laid before a cozy, 'pillowy' couch. The rest of the house was still quite bare, but it was to be furnished with pretty furniture and sweet memories, consecrated with joy and sorrow, and sealed in love and happiness.

"Are you going to be happy, Rilla-My-Rilla?" Kenneth asked as Rilla gazed out over the dark, alluring waters of the bay, with the harbor light sweeping over it in glowing curves. Rilla did not speak, but she turned to him in the faint candlelight, her eyes shining with the answer that would never waver.

"I love you, Rilla-My-Rilla," Ken whispered, and they had their first kiss in the First House.

THE END


End file.
